The Godfather
by BlackMoonWhiteSky
Summary: Reborn was her godfather, but he had never told her of his connection to the mafia. She was a natural hitman, a fact that pained him greatly because he had given his word to her father to protect her from the mafia life. Of course, she would be present when Tsunayoshi met Xanxus. Of course she would inadvertently piss off one of the single most dangerous men of the mafia. And live.


Reborn was literally her godfather, and has been her caretaker for many years, but he had never told her of his connections to the mafia. She was a natural hitman, a fact which pained him greatly because he had given his word to her father to protect her from the mafia life.

Of course, _**of course**_, she would be present when Tsunayoshi met Xanxus. Of course she would inadvertently piss off one of the single most dangerous men in the whole of the mafia world. And live. And of course she would find him fascinating. And vice versa.

As if trying to make No-Good Tsuna into a good Vongala boss wasn't difficult enough. Xanxus/OC

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**A/N I know it's been a while since I've updated anything, and I'm really sorry about that, but this semester of school has been rough and I haven't even been able to **_READ_** let alone write. Unlike Ornithophobic, this one is a new story, but in my defense I came up with the idea for this one right around the time I came up with The Lesser Evil and basically flipped a coin for which one to start first. But I'm an indecisive person so when I posted the first chapter for T.L.E.'s rewrite I decided to go ahead and post chapter one of this as well.**

**Rating is because, duh, it's the Varia. You expected something different?**

**Anywho, here's chapter one.**

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**The Godfather**

**Chapter 1: Don't Ask, Don't Tell**

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**====Story Start====**

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She knew something was up. She always knew, but just like every other time when he came to see her with that sour expression on his face- she didn't ask and he didn't tell.

"Uncle Reborn, what an unexpected surprise." She smiled prettily at him, purplish-blue eyes gleaming with happiness and that subtle under layer of intelligence –_She could be quite shrewd when she wanted to be, but liked to keep a façade of simplemindedness up in front of most people, as it was best to be underestimated whenever possible._- that added just the slightest sharpness to her gaze, her blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail and draped over her left shoulder, and her body language conveying her joy at his presence. Reborn easily pictured the slack jawed, brainless reactions that would have occurred had there been anyone other than himself around to see it- the thought '_Mafia Seduction_' tickled the back of his mind.

"Citrine." He nodded his greeting. It was good to see her looking so happy and healthy- it had been a few weeks since his last visit and there was always the worry that someone would actually be both good enough to find out about her and foolish enough to actually attack her, despite knowing that she was protected by _**him**_.

She had bodyguards of course, but none that were blatantly protecting her- he would have to explain their presence since she was not, in-and-of-herself, an extremely important individual. Plus, he grimaced at the thought -_As he always did when reminded of her natural hitman talent._- she was always noticing them as it was, if he were to put such obvious protectors around her she would accuse him of worrying too much.

Which he did, of course, Reborn took all his duties seriously. And, well... he actually _**liked**_ her. There were so very few individuals that he genuinely liked. Tolerated, sure, but liked? Not so much.

There were three main things that got you killed in his world:

1: Who you were.

2: What you had.

3: What you knew.

(**This was, of course, excluding the rule of simple bad luck, but that was also less directly related to number one, because you would only be in proximity to such dangers because of who you were anyways.**)

This particular young woman would be attacked because of number one. Who you were. Because who she _was_- was Citrine Gallucci, natural hit(wo)man, artist, and _**Goddaughter**_ of the sun Arcobaleno, Reborn.

...

Let that sink in for a moment.

Goddaughter of _**Reborn**_.

_**The**_ Reborn.

You would have to be crazy, stupid, or _**both**_ to even contemplate attacking her. But it had happened. –_That was a dark day all around, and any witnesses to Reborn's furious retribution still suffered from the nightmares._- She still had the scar across her throat to prove it, though it was covered by a scarf whenever he was around, because she could sense his unhappiness at the sight of it.

"You're looking very happy today, did something good happen?" He knew already, but he wanted her to tell him about it. She always seemed to be just a little happier when telling him good things. He never realized that it was because hearing those things seemed to make _**him**_ happy, and Citrine liked it when he was happy.

They had communication issues like that.

So she told him all about how she'd sold another painting, and wasn't it wonderful, and did he want to stay for dinner to celebrate, and the buyer was so handsome too –_Here Reborn's customary smirk became more of a scowl._- and she already had a new idea for a painting, and she really felt like cooking in celebration, and maybe dancing a bit, too. And after finally winding down she fell silent, because she recognized the look on Reborn's face. He had upsetting news to share with her.

"I have a new job." He had never told her what his jobs were, and she never asked, but sometimes he would catch a glimpse of _**something**_ in her face, and in that moment he knew that she knew. Maybe not the specifics, but she had a basic idea. She was smart, after all.

She sighed, and leaned back into the chair she had settled in, looking resigned. "Where are we moving this time?" Because he only ever told her about a job if it had the potential to take over a year to complete, since he deemed that to be a period of time that was too long for her to go without his protection. In those situations, she was required to move closer with him, and the less danger the mission involved, the closer to him she was.

"Japan." She nodded, looking neither happy, nor unhappy, and mumbled something under her breath about needing to brush up on her Japanese a bit. She had learned several different languages for her art dealings, but always seemed to learning a new one –_Yet another example of her natural inclinations towards things that would make her a good Mafioso._- so he was not remotely surprised to learn that she was fluent in Japanese.

And she looked up at him, a question on the tip of her tongue before she swallowed it back, because, _**after all**_, he never told.

And she never asked.

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_Citrine is a yellow-to-golden member of the quartz mineral group._ _Citrine is a success stone._

_Gallucci, an alternative spelling for Gallo: __From the Latin __**gallus**__, meaning "cock, rooster," Gallo was a nickname for a proud person, especially one with a "cocky" or vain attitude. It, like many other such nicknames, eventually became a surname. It (Gallo) is among the 20 most common Italian surnames. [I think it falls at around number 12]_


End file.
